A few months ago, a friend of mine was gearing up to leave Bangkok and head back to Australia, where she’s from. She was telling me how disappointed she was in a close friend of hers had dropped her like a stone and had barely been in touch since she’d announced her move back. She interpreted this as a snub now that she wasn’t any use to her — she felt as though she’d been duped, and the girl had only been friends with her because of her job as a magazine editor. She felt that perhaps she’d only been friends with her to get coverage for her business.
As I listened, I realised with horror that I could relate to the girl who’d done the snubbing. As bad as it sounds, I think I probably do the same.
While it’s not my most delightful trait, I would like to try and explain it — I never imagined it would be interpreted by others in such a terrible way. I can’t speak for the other girl but, I suspect, it’s probably the same for her.
You see, it may not be the most grown up way to react to things but, I love to bury my head in the sand at bad news. If you pretend it’s not happening, it’s much easier to deal with. Therefore, if you don’t deal with the emotional goodbyes and tears and all those “I just can’t believe you’re really leaving” conversations, it takes much less of a toll. Selfish, huh? Yep. Evil? I don’t think so.
Living in cities such as London, Dubai and Bangkok, where people come and leave at an alarming rate, make you really good at making friends and being subconsciously choosey about who you get close to. When, year after year, people you love to spend time with leave the city forever, you get really good at moving on.
Of course, there are the odd few that you’ll always miss — I still feel sick about the fact I’ll probably never live in the same city as Brock, the guy I cycled to Singapore with a few years ago. He’s one of those guys who probably has about 40 people in the world who consider him as one of their very best friends. His leaving day was made all the more emotional by the fact I’d been pulled off my bicycle and was in hospital with concussion when he came in to say goodbye. It was very cheesy soap opera style.
Leaving my Mum at the airport every time I fly away from the United Kingdom gives me a lump in my throat just thinking about it. It’s awful. So, I go to lengths to avoid these things where I can. I can’t very well slip away from my Mum without saying goodbye but, most of those leaving dos I either avoid or slip out early, and then drop a message later — it’s easier to say bye in an email — you don’t have to deal with the tears and the puffy red faces and sad looks. You don’t have to vow you’ll meet again soon when you know it probably isn’t true. It’s just ... easier to not go through those emotions and that painful routine.
Of course, if the shoe was on the other foot, I would feel differently. I’m a hypocrite like that. If I was leaving and people I thought were friends didn’t show up for my leaving do, or started to back off a little, I would be devastated. I would sulk, wonder what I’d done to deserve such treatment and probably let them know they had really let me down. I would conveniently forget my own self defence mechanism for when people are leaving and I’d take it very personally indeed. Cold hearts are also very unfair, you see.
